The Ten Rounds
by windxalchemist
Summary: Ten Rounds of strip poker in the MustangHawkeye living room. Who'll win? Oneshot, royAi.


The Ten Rounds

It was a scorching day at the Mustang/Hawkeye residence. So hot that the flowers in the vase were wilting no matter how much water they were given, and the canaries' music outdoors had been silenced long ago. The air conditioning was down, and the heat was cutting the wick short on their tempers. It was their day off this particular afternoon. Just to amuse themselves, and to kill time, they sat down for a few rounds of strip poker in the living room, suggested primarily y the Mustang half of the Mustang/Hawkeye house. Since there was a big squabble about _how _to go about playing poker (Roy insisting that _he_ deal the cards, and Riza countering that it would be unfair) they agreed on blackjack.

With both of them full of confidence that they'd win, they agreed to play until (a. the cards ran out, (b. one of them were stark naked, or (c. one of them got horny and they left the card game and just made out.

To make agreement C valid, Roy had to a considerable amount of begging, putting, nagging, and just pushing his charm into overdrive. Finally, Riza gave in, and started to deal the cards.

Roy had topromise that if he lost, he couldn't touch her for the whole week, no kissing, hugging, and he had to sleep on the couch or the spare bed for the whole week. On the other hand, if Riza lost, she had to give him a kiss whenever he wished, granted they were in the right environment.

The couple was sending "lose vibes" at each other in the living room. With them both in equivalent amount of clothes. They were off. Each of them shuffled the cards once, and then Riza dealt.

"Hit or stay?" she asked.

"Hit."

Round 1: Roy Mustang 18; Riza Hawkeye: 20.

"Something's gotta give Mustang," Riza teased.

In dejected manner, he took off his socks.

Round 2 start!

Once again, she dealt.

"Hit or stay?"

"Hit me."

Round 2: Roy Mustang: 21; Riza Hawkeye: 24.

This time, Lady Luck wasn't on her side. Disgruntled, she removed her jacket.

After eight rounds, they were both sitting in a minimal amount of clothes, on their living room carpet, with Hayate not far by, watching his parents with insatiable curiosity. Roy was in a t-shit and boxers, and Riza in a tank top and underwear. Perspiration was running off of their bodies as they glared at another in hopes of intimidating the opposing party, to no avail. Both sides returned eye contact with matching rivalry.

Round 9.

"Hit or stay?"

"Hit."

She had a king, and she went for a hit.

"Dammit," Roy muttered.

Round 9: Roy Mustang: 26; Riza Hawkeye: 20.

Roy took off his shirt to reveal a gleaming, not o mention extremely well toned, upper body. He raised his brows in a flirtatious manner, and she just rolled her eyes at his playful insolence.

Round 10.

Both parties knew that this could be the last round for one of them. Roy with a confident smirk on his face asked if they could just quit, claming he felt sick.

"You jut wouldn't be able to not touch me for a week, that's why. And no."

She was relentless.

"Roy, now if I let you win what would I get out of it? And furthermore-"

But she was cut off by his lips.

She loved the man, but she was married to a cheap dope.

Still, Roy managed to bring her into his arms, and was reaching up her shirt. Right then, and very much to their dismay, the doorbell rang.

"Looks like we're doomed to be interrupted," Riza smirked.

"Let's jut ignore them and reschedule the appointment," he said, putting is t-shirt on in a scramble.

"That wouldn't be fair to the workers," Riza countered, putting on a pair of pants.

"Well, right now you're being unfair to your husband, whom I know you love very, very much, right?"

Rolling here eyes, Riza pushed him against the wall and crashed her lips into his. Roy was only too happy to oblige, as she thrust her tongue into his mouth and started to massage the roof of his tongue. He moaned into her mouth, before breaking away breathless.

"I think that'll do for one afternoon, no?" she asked, opening the front door.

Panting slightly, he was still leaning against the wall. God, he was whipped.

"Well then, I can't wait till I get to see what you'll come up with tonight," he whispered into her ear.


End file.
